


There's one thing I wanted to tell you

by Masamiya



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Sick Steve, Skinny!Steve, Steve wrote Bucky a love letter, preserum!Steve, the first but maybe not the last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm dying.</p><p>Not this time and maybe even not this year, but it's all the same, I won't last.</p><p>I don't know what will take me, I just know that it will happen. Fever, heart attack, asthma, pneumonia, the result will be the same. You'll grow old without me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's one thing I wanted to tell you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [There's one thing I wanted to tell you/有一件事我想告诉你](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360893) by [babygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygirl/pseuds/babygirl)



> I'm french, this isn't beta'd. I'm sorry if there is any mistake, please tell me?
> 
> And of course, enjoy :D

 

Bucky,

 

I know you'll be the one to find this later, when the time will come. I know 'cause you barely left my side these last days, checking on me. Now that I'm feeling better you're back to work- you shouldn't have left it in the first place, Buck, work is hard to find and even harder to keep, and your presence here won't change a thing: I'm dying.  
Not this time and maybe even not this year, but all the same, I won't last.

 

I don't know what will take me, I just know that it will happen. Fever, heart attack, asthma, pneumonia, the result will be the same. You'll grow old without me.

 

We both know that, and maybe that's why you have so much patience with me, because you know you won't have to work for both of us all of your life. I know I'm a burden. People look at you with pity, Buck, at you and not at me; there's disgust in their eyes when they look at me. They wonder why you're bothering at all with me because I'm just a useless mouth to feed.  
My medicine is taking most of your money, I'm not able to earn a penny most of the time because I'm too sick, too small, too fragile; I'm even taking up your warmth at night, like a parasite.

 

But I can't bring myself to give up, I still fight tooth and nails every time to stay alive, to stay by your side- forgive me for being selfish. I know you'd be better left without me. I know that but- every time, I wait for you to come home, the fever making my blood sing in my veins, beating against my temples, and the only thing I can think about is your skin against mine.  
I know you'll strip down and climb in bed with me, and it's so innocent, so platonic for you. It's still the highlight of my day, breathing you in, resting my cheek against your cold chest. You're always so cold the first minutes when you come home, and it's cooling me down, making the fever go away, making me breathe easier- or maybe it's just the relief to have you back, to have your body against mine.

 

I'm a sinner and I'm weak; I'll take everything you're willing to offer. I close my eyes and I imagine that I'm in your arms for different reasons.

 

Maybe this isn't something you wanted to know about your old pal, especially if this is a last letter, something I plan for you to find when I'm dead and burried but I need you to know that I love you.

 

I love you with all my being, more than I can say; enough to stay alive and fight pneumonia, enough to still be happy when I can't breathe because it means that soon I'll feel your hand between my shoulders and your voice whispering soothing things in my ear.

 

There's no point in a life without you- I don't only depend on you because of my physical condition, but also because of my love. I know my health is already such a burden for you, and that's why I'm only telling you about my feelings now. I know you'd let me down as gently as you can, but it would worry you in the end. You always worry too much. You worry and you think you're not doing enough- but God, Buck, you're doing great.  
I look at you and I see my best friend, I see a strong man, capable, and always doing the right thing. You're always trying to do the right thing and that's probably why I'm still allowed to be in your appartment, coughing my lungs up beside you at night when you should rest peacefully in order to be rested for work in the morning.

  
I know you're sacrificing yourself, giving me more food than you eat even if you're taller, even if you need it more than me. Every mouthfull tastes like hope- like maybe you love me back, just a little bit.

 

This is all I have- hope, but it's only to entertain myself when I've got to stay in bed because I'm too ill to work. All I have to do to remember that it's impossible is look in a mirror. Or go out- people look at me and I see in their eyes what I am.  
Sometimes it scares me, even. I read in the newspapers what's happening in Europe- the eugenism, and I know that if I was born I Germany they would have got rid of me. I'm lucky to be in Brooklyn, where people tolerate me, let me live in your shadow. I get beat up, sure, but I'm still able to give as good as I get.

 

I try to keep my head up in the streets when every face staring at me reminds me that I'm a mistake, the useless fruit of the rotten union between an alcoholic and a frail women with diabetes and TB.  
The only way to do this is to think about you, about your honest eyes when you tell me that there's nothing wrong with me. You  always treated me like I wasn't different. I think about the way you keep me close even in your sleep, like I'm something precious, and I can walk proudly, with my head up.

 

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I really was normal. You wouldn't have to take care of me, to worry. Maybe you wouldn't care as much as you do now. Or if I was handsome, as handsome as you, maybe you'd make an exception for me- maybe you'd let me try to get you off when you're too tired to go out and find a girl.

 

I'll never know.

 

This isn't the point of this letter, anyway. I'm gonna die and it's OK, we both expect as much by now. We're prepared. I already received the last sacraments twice by now. Anyway, if there's a war, you'll probably die too.

I just hope I'll be the first to go- it would only be fair.

The point is that I want to thank you. You made my little, insignificant life beautiful. You filled it with your easy smiles, your friendship. You filled my silence with your exuberence and in return I filled entire notebooks with sketches of you.  
(You can keep them if you want, give 'em to your sweetheart if you have one)

 

You're the best man I've even known. I love you, Buck. I hope you'll see that you're as perfect as anyone can be, that you saved my life again and again and that you deserve to be the happiest man in the world. I hope that if there's a war you'll be careful. I hope you'll find a real classy dame, one who deserves you.

 

I hope you'll try to make yourself as happy as I always wanted to make you- but never was able to. 

 

Please, Bucky, take care of yourself once I'm gone- because I will always love you.

 

Steve- all yours.

 

 

__________________

 

 

Stevie,

 

Get your fucking ass in my room when you're back home. I don't care if you're hurt because your little Avengers buddies weren't able to protect you like I'd do if Shield was smart enough to let me come with. 

Come here first thing and explain the letter I found in the things the Smithsonian sent me.

 

I swear to God if you decide that you don't love me anymore I'm gonna hurt you real bad for not having opened your shithole of a mouth earlier. I didn't know it was even possible for you to keep something for yourself- I mean, you even told the Big Cole -remember that bully?- to go fuck himself and you couldn't tell me that I could have you?

You need to sort out your priorities, punk.

 

Waiting for you- possiblty naked-

 

Buck

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, don't hesitate and come talk about Skinny!Steve with me on tumblr:
> 
> http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com


End file.
